


Five times someone hugged Jackson and the one time they didn’t need to

by Spylace



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, Jackson gets hugged a lot, M/M, Puppy Piles, Werewolf Turning, and hugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 08:46:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1130607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spylace/pseuds/Spylace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jackson has issues after being turned until he doesn’t.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five times someone hugged Jackson and the one time they didn’t need to

**Author's Note:**

> Repost!
> 
> Written for a [prompt](http://teenwolfkink.livejournal.com/2069.html?thread=1276693#t1276693) on [](http://teenwolfkink.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://teenwolfkink.livejournal.com/)**teenwolfkink**

1\. Danny

  
Danny lets him in his house without a question when he shows up on his doorstep, sweaty and panting like he’s been running for miles and miles. Jackson is aware that he must look crazy; there is blood on his shirt and white rings around his eyes. And he can’t stop shaking even though he knows that the alpha (the one who turned McCall) is dead because his is merely waiting—waiting for him to come _home_.

Tommy, Tony, T-something-y protests as he is kicked out, his hair mussed and face flushed like he’s been having a fantastic time before Jackson decided to knock on the door. But he goes quietly enough when Danny glowers, scarier than any werewolf, hunter, or Sheriff he’s had to face in the past twenty-four hours. Bustling around in the bathroom and the kitchen cabinets, Danny produces a first aid kit and the prescription drugs strong enough to knock him out cold.

Jackson’s wanted to be turned ever since he found out what McCall was. In the back of his mind, something whispers to him that all medicines are poisons but he finds that he can’t bring himself to care. Dutifully, he swallows down the pills offered and the glass of water left in his hands. He stands up and staggers around, knocking into chairs and tables ending in a spectacular bruise that blooms on his hip, lost even though he’s been here a million times before and _why can’t he stop crying_?

Danny doesn’t ask questions though he sees them milling around behind his eyes like a second heartbeat. Instead, Danny sits them down on the couch and holds him tight like the time when he first came out and thought the world was about to end. They stay there until dawn.

 

2\. Allison

  
The next morning, he goes to school looking perfectly fine. The bite mark on his arm has healed up completely, only a scattering of new hairs marking where Derek’s teeth had grazed his skin. But at his locker when the first bell rings, he tenses up and begins to hyperventilate, the tiny white numbers in front of him twisting and blurring until he finally punches the door in frustration.

Someone suddenly puts a hand on his arm and he flinches back, expecting to be struck. Only the familiar scent of strawberry-kiwi shampoo stops him from getting suspended for the rest of the year.

“Allison,” he gasps, putting on a fragile smile but she only stares at him in concern, Scott McCall, her annoying werewolf boyfriend appearing behind her like a bad case of cold.

“Are you okay?” She asks and he can hear the guilt in her voice, though truly she is blameless in all this. Then she hugs him to his surprise and that of the other werewolf who squawks and flails around. And it’s nice—Allison is very warm. By the time she lets go he feels more human, his wolf less distracted at being in a building full of hormonal teenagers and strange new scents.

McCall growls in the background like a broken record as she fusses over him, saying sorry, sorry, sorry over and over again with every word. He quickly whisks her away after that but not before she gives him another squeeze to the arm, telling him to call her if he ever needs a friend.

He might just take her up on that offer.

 

3\. Stiles

  
Stiles Stilinski is the last person he wants to see, curled up under a bench with the dim glow of the exit sign washing over him like St. Elmo’s fire. But Derek is struggling with his own wolves tonight and McCall is useless as always, going over to see Allison even though everyone told him not to—Chris Argent told him not to and he was holding a gun. Jackson has no idea how McCall made it past sixteen especially if his best friend is a special brand of idiot who locks himself in the locker room with a newly bitten were when everyone sane has gone home.

Stilinksi babbles about everything and nothing as night falls, blanketing them in the dark. He reeks of McCall and Jackson can’t help but snarl, only the underlying scent of his alpha stopping him from ripping off the other boy’s face. Derek’s been giving him rigorous lessons in werewolf etiquette, trying to have at least one packmate who won’t lose his head on a full moon. But he still wants to bite Stilinski, scare him at the very least when he goes on and on, mouth running like a motor as he complains of McCall’s lack of control, his father’s crazy working hours and being roped into dog-sitting. “...at least you don’t threaten to kill me every day.”

Jackson lifts his lips in warning. He wants to run, feels jittery and too big beneath his skin. His claws scrape the floor ominously and Stilinski points the black nozzle of a fire extinguisher in his face as though the stupid thing can stop him if he attacks. With a short howl, he leaps but misses, the fire extinguisher rolling away. He isn’t sure which one of them is more surprised when he lands sprawled on top of the other boy, knees barely missing his balls as Stilinski yelps and tries to get away.

“Oh my god, shit, okay! You don’t like me! I get it!”

Except Jackson’s wolf decides that this is the perfect time to recognize Stilinski as a pack and gets its feelings all hurt and muddle up as he is pushed away. Maybe it shows up in his eyes or most likely, he and McCall had a similar experience in the past because Stilinski immediately latches back on, again knees brushing dangerously close to his nether bits. “Okay... remember what the doctor told you and breathe...”

He pushes back the wolf aside long enough to say, “What is this, a Lamaze class?”

Stilinski gets all offended—“who’s risking his life here, me or you?”

“Let me go Stilinski and I won’t tear off your face or something.”

“It’s a lot more convincing when Derek does it.”

“Let go!”

The arms around his ribs get tighter until he swears he can hear them creak a little. Mindful of the other boy’s comparative fragility, he thrashes and becomes the little spoon for the first time in his life. His human half is mortified; his newly formed wolf half is positively ecstatic.

“If you tell _anyone_ about this...”

Stilinski pats him on the stomach consolingly, settling in for the long haul.

“Look on the bright side, you’re okay.”

The terrible thing is that he is _right_.

 

4\. Scott

  
These days, he’s the only one who can give McCall a decent challenge during practice and even then it’s not really fair because Jackson genuinely likes his teammates and doesn’t want to see them crippled for life. He hadn’t thought the other beta so petty about minor grievances stemming from their freshman year and onwards but he figures something is up after being tackled to the ground for absolutely no other reason at all other than breathing air.

He doesn’t even have the ball but Scott never lets him up, wrapping around him like a dog with a bone, fighting to keep him pinned even when everyone else has stopped and is staring open-mouthed. Jackson wants to yell for help but no one seems inclined to move. McCall smugly sits on him and he begins to reconsider Stilinski’s theories on pack hierarchy. But living had been higher on the list that day and the way Derek was growling, whoever encouraged the skinny freak was going to experience a painful, _painful_ death.

Then something clicks into mind as the events of the full moon wash over him like a terrifying dream.

“Are you serious?!”

“If it keeps Allison from hugging you then yes!”

Jackson is wrong; McCall is that petty. But rolling around in the dirt feels good, cathartic even. And he’s never passed up an excuse to plant McCall’s face in the mud and he is not going to start now.

The next time they are on the field, he makes sure to tackle the other beta first.

 

5\. Derek

  
“But McCall...”

“Scott isn’t mine.”

The saddest thing is that those words just give him a warm fuzzy feeling inside.

Unlike McCall, Jackson actually has an alpha that cares for him if not the continued survival of his species. Despite the Derek’s own struggles with his newly inherited powers, Jackson gets the crash course on how to be a werewolf without ending up with an ass full of silver bullets. But this, this makes grappling in the mud in full lacrosse gear look very manly. He wiggles against the hot press of bodies which makes Stilinski whine—apparently, the back of his shoulders weas ticklish—and Derek snap and make his eyes go a scary shade of red.

So he settles down, grumbling at the indignity of being forced to cuddle Stiles of all people.

“Does Stilinski have to be here?”

“If you don’t want to kill him.”

Stiles begins babbling.

“I didn’t kill him last time.”

“Because he smelled like me.”

He isn’t sure what he can say to that.

He can’t even remember why he was ever scared of Derek Hale.

But having the alpha around him makes him feel good. In spite of everything, their little puppy pile makes him feel _safe_.

Stiles whimpers something about being a virgin.

Jackson smiles.

 

+1 Lydia

  
He breaks every speed limit on his way to the hospital.

There are advantages of having the Sheriff’s son as a packmate. Even before her parents are noticed, the news travels lightning fast down the grapevine from the hospital to Stiles, with negligible intermediaries like doctors, nurses and the cops in between. In the end, it was Stiles who figured everything out. The rogue alpha died before Lydia could turn, leaving her stuck in a curious state somewhere in between. They brought Derek over once he’d been cleared of all charges and the mystery of the Hale arson solved. No longer the town pariah, Derek bit Lydia again on the ankle where no one would notice until it was time to change the bed pan.

That was two days ago.

Lydia is awake, her perfect strawberry blonde hair mussed like the last time they had made out on her bed. Stiles is sitting next to her, animatedly carving great slopes and lines into the air as he fills her in on what’s been going on in the past few days as she laid in the hospital recovering. She seems dazed at first but turns around, her green eyes as sharp as shards of glass when she hears his footsteps on the sound of his heartbeat thrumming in her ears. Immediately, Stiles excuses himself and Jackson knows he will feel a prickle of guilt later once he knows his ex-girlfriend is going to be okay.

“Hey” he croaks, sitting down on the vacated seat and taking her hand into his own. She looks down and then back up, a smile stretching slowly across her bruised lips.

She squeezes his hand.

“Hi”


End file.
